My Dying Letter To You
by MEAM1
Summary: ORIGINAL FICTION. NOT HARRY POTTER FANFICTION: To my one and true love: I leave you this letter. I hope to see you soon. I'm coming. Wait for me. I love You.


I love you.

I always have.

Even after so many years, I can confidently say you were my soul mate. You were the love of my life; and my only regret.

I die knowing you were the only one for me, yet I spent my life without you.

I remember the day we met. I thought you were just a passing stranger; someone I would talk to once and never see or hear from again. But you stayed. You become so much more to me than just a simple stranger's message; more than just a passing hello; and far more than just another human being.

You became my exception. You stayed even when I thought I was alone. You accepted me completely, even though I believed myself to be nothing. You made me see a beauty within myself that I had never experienced before, and have not since. You made me look forward to my future; one in which I saw you and me together, growing happy and old. You made the prospect of having children a pleasant one, because it would be a life created by the both of us.

But most of all, you made me truly happy to be alive.

The world to me was always a dark one. I saw no use in my life. No meaning. No reason to keep on living. I hated myself in the most absolute way. I didn't simply hate my body or mind; no, I hated my very soul. I hated who I was as a living being.

But you changed that. You became the one and only exception to this dark life that surrounded me. When I believed I would never be happy, here you came along and made me beyond ecstatic. When I thought I would die alone, here you came and made me believe I had a partner for life. When I showed my hatred for all life, here you came and made me want children with you. When I talked about being lonely and miserable, here you came along and stayed.

Or, at least, you tried to stay.

Distance separated us. Distance and time. I wanted to stay in school—on one side of the country—until I got my PhD, which would take years. You wanted to stay in the army—on the other side of the country—until you felt satisfied with your service, which would take years. Distance and time—years of time—kept us apart.

We tried, we really did. We kept in touch, on and off, for years. We grew up into adults before we even knew it. Yet, throughout it all, my feelings for you never went away. Never changed. Never reached.

I had to, Love. I had to marry him. I needed security in this country, and to get that I needed to marry him.

He isn't a bad man. He and I were very good friends, and I did care for him. I just didn't love him. I didn't love him the way a spouse should love their partner. Even after so many years of being married, I still don't love him the way I do you.

We had, or at least I had, planned to divorce after I could safely live here. After the threat against my life here was no longer present. But the day never came. Not soon enough, at least. It took years. Years upon years went by with him. I didn't hate it, exactly. Like I said, he and I had been very good friends before any of this was even discussed. But I wasn't happy. I wasn't happy in the same way I had been with you. Could had been, with you.

I wanted to marry you. I wanted you to be the one at the altar. I wanted you to be the one I woke up next to in the morning. I wanted you to be the one holding my hand, as a crying child was placed in our arms. I always wanted it to be you.

It broke my heart when we lost touch. I knew it was selfish of me, but I wanted to at least keep in contact. I wanted to talk to you.

See you.

Touch you.

I wondered every day how you were doing. Had you served the country as long as you wanted to? How long was that? Did you move somewhere, maybe somewhere closer to me and I never knew? Did you meet someone? Did you meet someone you loved and cared for and stayed with?

Did you ever think of me too?

Even as the years passed by, I remembered your birthday. I would light a small candle and softly sing to myself every year on your birthday. It made me feel closer to you, in a way. Somehow—a miracle probably—my daughter was born on the day we first met. So while I silently sang to you on your birthday, I was able to fully celebrate on the date we met.

I love my daughter. And although she didn't come from you and I, I feel she could have, based on her birthday. She's a beautiful girl; the complete opposite of me, thank god. She is such a sweet and vibrant person, seeing the world through a lens of potential and hope and beauty. Although I was never religious, I had, and continue to, pray to any god that will listen to grant me my wish to see her grow and be happy. I don't care what she does in and with her life. I don't care what mistakes she makes. As long as she is happy, that is all I can ever ask for.

She's with me now. As I write this, she is sitting next to my bed, her hand resting softly on my lap while the soft, orange glow of the lamp casts shadows across her face. She became such an amazing woman. Strong and brilliant. Against the inky darkness of the room, she looks almost like an angel.

She knows, I suspect. She knows I don't love her father the way a spouse should. She knows her birthday means more to me than just the day she came into this world. She knows I only have one regret in this life, but I don't know if she knows that one regret was you.

I regret not fighting harder. I regret not waiting longer. I regret not finding some other way to be with you, even if it meant staying in danger.

I do love him. I came to love him a bit more than just a friend. But I have never, and will never love him the way I love you. Not that there's much time left anymore.

I think he also knew. Knew I've never loved him as much as you. He knew about you before we even married. All the people I cared about knew about you. They could clearly see my love for you in the smile I wore whenever I spoke of you. Even so, he accepted this and, throughout the years, loved me as much as I love you. He's a good man. He's just not you.

You have always been my only regret. Just imagining the live we could have had together makes my chest feel hollow and about to cave in. The life; the children; the whole future we could have had together. It brings me such a deep and unending sadness.

I don't know where you are, or even if you are still on this Earth with me. I don't know what kind of life you've had, or how it has treated you.

But it doesn't matter anymore.

My time is up.

I've had a long life. Too long, if you ask me. But now Death is here, and he is extending his hand out towards me from within the shadows.

It's warm.

I'm not scared. I'm not sad. You may have been my only regret in this life, but I hope, wherever Death may take me, it will be somewhere with you.

I'll see you soon.

I love you.


End file.
